A Place of Safety: Later On
by headrush100
Summary: Post-War Stories, Inara and Simon help the captain through a tough night. This is the follow-on to 'A Place of Safety' and takes place the same night. A few people have asked for this - I hope you enjoy it!


When they'd brought Mal back from Niska's skyplex, she'd watched from a distance. He was barely conscious, resisting Simon's every attempt to assess his condition until Book, Jayne, and Zoe had lifted him onto the examination table and held him there until Simon was able to give him a shot that put him out. She'd retreated to her shuttle; there was nothing she could do for Mal yet, and she'd only have got in the way.

She made tea. Slowly, mindfully, she set out the things and warmed the antique pot, trying to let ritual soothe her rising anxiety over Mal. His suffering had a complicated and unsettling effect on her, and trying to sort through the implications of that had her going in circles as usual.

She'd mulled on it until the pot was cold, and Zoe had come by on her way back from seeing the captain. She told her that Mal was in all kinds of pain, and although Kaylee desperately wanted to help, right now he needed... her. "Someone he... well, someone with a little more experience," Zoe had said.

Someone with counselling experience? Someone he trusts? Someone he... _loves?_ Did Zoe know something about Mal's feelings for her that she didn't? She couldn't imagine Mal and Zoe conversing about such things, but their bond was a deep and strange one, and anything was possible. She rolled her eyes at herself. This was no time to be dwelling on such selfish things. What mattered was that Mal came through this intact, physically and psychologically.

Zoe's visit had done nothing to calm her nerves. Zoe told her the captain was sleeping, but maybe later she could drop by and see if there was any way of easing him, maybe in a few hours, when someone needed to look in on him again.

It was about 2.30am when she rose and made a flask of healing tea. She dropped by the infirmary on the way to Mal's cabin, and was surprised to see Simon lying on one of the exam beds, dozing. He sat up abruptly as he registered her presence, as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Inara? Are you all right?"

She smiled. "Please, don't trouble on my account. I might ask you the same question. Your patient's gone to bed, you know."

He rubbed his eyes. "I thought I'd better be on hand, just in case." He looked at her steadily. "He really was very badly hurt."

She knew that, but hearing it again made her heart plummet. In his way, was he asking her the same thing as Zoe? "I know. Zoe told me everything. I'm going to check on him now. Is there anything I might need?"

Simon was all action then. He moved around his small domain decisively, taking things out of drawers and cabinets.

"Thermometer. Check his temperature. If it's over a hundred, come get me. Antiseptic, bandages, tape, gloves. His dressings will need changing by now, so if he'll let you, clean him up and put some new ones on. If he won't let you, come get me. Watch his eyes and his general condition; if he seems unfocused, or slurs his words, or if he's nauseous or in too much pain, come get me. Ignore whatever he says; come get me."

Simon's eagerness to help, despite the somewhat patchy relationship he had with the captain, warmed her. She smiled. "So what you're saying is, come get you?"

He opened his mouth, then smiled self-deprecatingly. "I believe that is what I'm saying, yes."

"I will."

He tipped the supplies into a single bag and passed it to her. "I wish he'd let me give him the treatment he needs. After a cardiac episode like he had, he should be monitored constantly for a few days, to say nothing of the other injuries he's suffered. It's the least I can do after all he's done for me and River. He sighed. "I thought he was starting to trust me."

She hadn't realized how much the captain's approval had meant to Simon. "He let you reattach his ear. That's quite something."

"After he'd been restrained _and_ sedated."

"Yes, but he was pretty out of it when they got him back on the ship."

Simon nodded. "That's true, but still... I just don't think the captain trusts me. If this had been anyone else, I would have kept them sedated for as long as it took to treat them and ensure there weren't going to be any further complications. When the captain came to and insisted on going to his bunk, I let him, partly because right now he needs to do what comforts him, but mostly because I didn't want to drive a wedge between us by forcing any more treatment on him. And he'd probably see it as making him look weak in front of his crew."

She couldn't disagree. "That was very considerate of you."

"But now I can't sleep for imagining he's down there having a heart attack, or any one of a myriad of complications that could arise following the kind of experience he's just had. I feel as if I'm betraying my oath, and letting my patient down."

"You're not, Simon. You're doing the best you can, and all your patient will allow. We don't know what the captain's going through right now." She shook her head. "I just can't imagine it. It makes me ill to think of it, but I can't stop picturing it. Zoe told me he was screaming when she got Wash out."

"I can, unfortunately. I've seen it with River, and with a number of patients who came my way before my life took an unexpected detour."

"Then you should know it's not you, Simon. The captain's a good man, but he's also a stubborn fool at times. He's proud, and though he'd help anyone, he's not so good at accepting it himself, especially with an audience." She was glad to see the doctor's shoulders drop, losing a little of their stiffness.

"Thank you, but be that as it may..."

She touched his arm. "I know. I promise I'll get you if I need to."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"Why don't you get back on the bed and try to get some sleep. Can I bring you a cup of tea? I find it helps, especially when dealing with the captain." She took a couple of steps forward, softly herding him back to the exam bed.

He smiled, and sank down on it. "No, I'll be fine. Thank you."

She pulled the infirmary door partway closed, and left him to it. The closer she got to Mal's cabin, the more nervous she became. Would he reject her help as well? She was braced not to take it personally, although she knew she would anyway. Who knew what to expect, after what he'd just been through? How would she react, how would she cope, after being tortured to death?

This was it; she rapped three times on his door, then let herself in without waiting for an answer, just in case he _had_ had a heart attack or something. Please, no. A small light was on in the corner of the room, just enough to see by.

"Who's there?" Mal croaked.

He didn't sound good, but to hear him speak at all was a great relief. She took a breath. "It's me, Mal."

"Inara?"

Her heart did a little flip at the relief in his voice. "Yes." She walked over to him, trying to keep a neutral expression.

"Outta the two of us, I'd say you're the pretty one," he said. "But give me a day or two."

She always did have a terrible poker face. She tried to smile, and failed miserably. She took in his pasty, sweaty face and glassy eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better. I'll live."

He looked profoundly uncomfortable. She carefully perched on the side of the bed, and put her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. He jerked, then looked sheepish and closed his eyes.

Very jumpy. Post traumatic stress? "You will," she affirmed, gently.

He wasn't looking, so she allowed herself to frown. She rummaged through the bag, and found what she was looking for. "Open your mouth, Mal."

"Gonna give me a surprise?" he muttered.

She smiled. Whether that was intended to be funny or flirtatious, that he could come up with it at all was a good sign. "If a thermometer would surprise you, then yes." He obeyed, and she slipped the thermometer in. Remembering what Simon had said about his heart, she took his wrist and began counting.

He opened his eyes. "You a doctor now?"

His pulse was quite a bit faster than it should have been. "Shh. Don't talk while I'm taking your temperature. First aid was part of our training, and we have to take a refresher every three years." She threw him a bone. "You'd be surprised how many clients keel over on us."

Amusement flickered in his eyes. "Not really," he muttered around the thermometer.

"Shh. I'm going to turn the sheet down, all right?"

He looked confused, but nodded. She couldn't help but stare as she uncovered his chest and stomach. She didn't know what she'd expected, but this was something else. She looked back up at his face and saw that he was studying her.

"I'm sorry. Zoe told me what you went through, but..."

He covered her hand with his, and squeezed. His knuckles and fingernails were scraped raw. "It's okay."

She froze, then decided, as she so often did, to move on and not overanalyze. With her free hand, she took the thermometer out of his mouth. 102F. Infection. Had to be.

The large bandage in the middle of his chest was the most stained. Even the skin surrounding it was inflamed. She put her hand lightly over it and felt the heat radiating from the wound. Very gently, she picked at the surgical tape and peeled the flap of the bandage up so that she could see what was underneath, but he couldn't. Fresh blood welled up from the deep, central circular wounds and the three points surrounding them, mixing old and new blood and pus. This must be from the instrument that had stopped his heart. They needed Simon. Now.

"What?" he said, clearly worried by her expression. He sounded exhausted.

"Simon said that if your temperature was over a hundred, I had to call him."

Mal swallowed hard and turned his eyes to the wall, obviously formulating a refusal.

"Don't be a stubborn mule. Only a fool would be lucky enough to have a doctor on board out all the way out here and not use him when he needed to." She paused. "Besides, I think it would mean a lot to Simon if you'd let him tend to you."

Of course, she could call the doctor herself and there was nothing Mal could do about it, but if Simon was to have Mal's cooperation and trust, Mal would have to consent to it. The doctor had already had to use force on the captain, and if it came to that again, he'd have an almighty fight on his hands that neither of them had a hope of winning.

"You want to get back in charge, don't you?"

His eyes cut to her, a little unfocused. "I _am_ in charge. I've never _not_ been in charge. Even when I hand my boat to someone else, I'm _still_ in gorram charge!"

She automatically put a hand on his arm to still him, and he twitched. She took her hand away. "I know, Mal. Everybody knows that." Except maybe Jayne.

"Then why'd you – "

"I just meant, you want to be on your feet again as soon as possible, don't you?"

His expression was dark. "Yes."

She lightly touched the bandage on his chest, and he flinched. "I think we can both agree that this is infected, yes? And maybe some of the other wounds are too. I doubt Niska troubled to sterilize his instruments of torture between victims."

He grimaced. "Unlikely."

"So you'll let me call Simon?"

After a long pause, he nodded. He must be feeling bad. She got up and pressed the intercom button for the infirmary. The doctor answered almost right away, and didn't sound as though her call had woken him.

"Simon, the captain has a fever, could you come and check him over, please?"

"Of course." The relief in his voice was evident even over the intercom. "I'll be right there."

"Happy now?" said Mal.

She smiled sweetly. "Yes. Thank you."

Simon arrived in no time. He and the captain eyed each other with mutual wariness.

She broke the silence. "Simon, why don't I clean the wounds a little while you wash up?"

He looked grateful. "Oh. That'd be great, if you wouldn't mind."

Simon was hoping, she knew, that she'd soften the captain up before he got to him. Probably best not to rush things. Simon handed her a pair of exam gloves, a pail of warm, antiseptic-smelling water and a clean surgical sponge. She perched beside Mal again, pulled the gloves on, and removed the big central bandage. This time he was tense under her hands, his eyes on the doctor. Simon very deliberately kept his attention on his preparations.

She washed away the mess of blood and pus, and when she looked up, a fine sheen of sweat covered Mal's skin. She was dismayed; he'd given no indication that she'd been hurting him, though clearly she had. She realized, this was one of those parts of Mal that Zoe knew best.

"I'm sorry, this must hurt a great deal," she said.

"It's okay," he said, grimly.

Slowly and carefully, she removed the other bandages, cleaning the shocking damage beneath as quickly and carefully as she could, wincing right along with him. Most seemed to be healing all right, but a few were puffy and oozing, well on the way to infection.

Simon came over to stand beside her, an IV bag and needle in his hands. Nothing in Mal's expression gave him away, but she could feel him trembling under her hands.

The doctor knelt beside him. "Captain, I'm going to give you some antibiotics and fluids through the IV, okay?"

They all knew that Mal really didn't have a choice, but he nodded his permission. Simon looked relieved, and reached for the captain's hand.

"Mal," she said, drawing his attention back to her. "What should we do if Jayne starts trying to run things?"

"Won't never happen." He winced, and looked down at his hand as though he'd forgotten a needle was going into it. "Not with Zoe around."

"And what if we have engine trouble?"

"Kaylee'll take care of it."

Simon pressed a stethoscope to Mal's chest. Panic flickered in the captain's eyes, and she could see what it cost him to suppress it.

"And what if we need to make a quick getaway?" she went on, quickly.

"Wash'll – " he stopped. "How _is_ Wash?"

She smiled. "He's been better too, but he'll be okay. Simon did a great job on him. He can fly."

"Sprouted wings, has he?" said Mal.

"Not quite." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Simon quietly going about an examination so unobtrusive and thorough it gave her a new respect for his skills and his sensitivity. "And what if something happens with River, or someone gets hurt?"

"The doc'll..." he trailed off. "I know what you're doing."

She smiled. "Good. Do you understand that you can rest now, knowing that everything is taken care of, including you?"

He grunted, but didn't look entirely out of sorts. It was progress.

"Captain," Simon said lightly, unthreateningly, "I'm just going to give you something for the pain and the fever now. Just relax."

"Just relax, so I can shove a needle in you," said Mal.

Simon smiled. "That's right." He wiped down Mal's arm and gave him the injection. No pain registered on Mal's face, only a slight surprise. The doctor grinned. "I told you, I'm very good."

"And so modest with it," said Mal.

"I came top of the class in modesty."

She stood up so that Simon could take her place on the bed.

"Inara, I need a few minutes privacy, if you don't mind. I'll let you know when you can come back in."

"Of course." She stood up, but Mal looked alarmed.

"No, stay." He flushed. "I mean, if you want to."

She looked at the doctor.

He shrugged. "It's okay with me, if it's okay with the captain."

She put a cushion on the floor beside Mal, and knelt on it with her back to Simon and whatever he was doing. Again, Mal trembled under her hands, and she knew Simon must be feeling the same tremors.

"Captain," he said, "I'm going to have to clear out some dead tissue here. I'm afraid I can't give you anything for the pain, so I'm going to need you to just hold on. It'll be over very quickly, I promise."

Suddenly, Mal's face contorted, and he went rigid, spitting out a curse that turned into a high-pitched keening that frightened her. Simon apologized, but kept at it. Mal began to push himself up, but she pushed him back down, and kept him there with soothing nonsense until he lay still, sweat rolling off him.

"Done," said the doctor, his hands still busy applying some kind of poultice. "I'm sorry, Captain. How does that feel now?"

Mal lay there staring up at the ceiling, stunned. "Better." He seemed to sink further into the mattress, pain giving way to exhausted relief. "That's better. Thanks."

Simon smiled. "Good. No more pain now; I'm just going to clean you up and put fresh dressings on."

The captain's relief was palpable as she washed away the sweat everywhere she could get at.

She moved up to perch on the bed, leaned over him, and smiled. "Close your eyes, and relax."

"Seems to me, last time I was told to relax, got a needle shoved in me," he said, his voice still unsteady.

"Well, I'm not going to do that."

"What _are_ you fixing to do?"

"I'm going to make you feel better. Trust me. Close your eyes."

Warily, he did. She quickly checked his scalp for injured areas to avoid, and then set to work on giving him the best – and probably first – scalp massage of his life.

He moaned.

Simon looked up in alarm. "Captain?"

"It's a good moan," she said. "Trust me."

Mal made an incoherent noise that was clearly of pleasure, and Simon's concern seemed to drop down a few notches.

"Oh. Okay. Good."

By the time Simon finished checking his vitals again, Mal looked as peaceful as she'd ever seen him.

"Well, that's done for now," said Simon, stripping off his bloody gloves. "We'll check those dressings again in the morning."

Blearily, Mal opened his eyes and held up a hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

Shock and pleasure battled for dominance on Simon's features, and pleasure won. He took the captain's hand and shook it gently. "You're very welcome, Captain." He looked at Inara. "You can stay another half hour if you want, but then both of you need to sleep. Got it?"

She nodded. "All right. Thank you, Simon. Go and get some rest now, yourself."

"I'll be in the infirmary. Call me if you need me."

"Get some sleep, Doc," said Mal. "That's an order."

Simon grinned. "Well then, that's what I'll do."

When the doctor had gone, Mal let out a long sigh.

"Are you all right?" she said. "Thirsty?"

He swallowed, and winced. His throat must be sore from the screaming. "Yeah."

She picked up the flask and poured a small cup of tea with honey. She moved closer to support his head. As soon as the earthenware cup touched his lips, he began to gulp it down. She pulled it away. "Slowly."

He glared at her, and she refilled the cup. "Slower." He gulped again, and she moved it out of reach. "What part of 'slower' was confusing to you?"

"Thirsty."

"You've hardly had anything in two days. Do you want it all to come right back up?"

He stared longingly at the cup, and this time when she gave it to him, he sipped.

"This is really good."

She smiled. "It's my mother's tea. She made it for us when we were sick."

"Your mother must be some woman."

She felt that reflexive pang that never diminished no matter how much time had passed. "Yes, she was... remarkable."

His face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry."

The way he said it, she knew his sympathy drew on a deeper well than simple politeness. She shook her head. This was no time to dwell on sadness. "She was smart and funny, and always had the answers. She'd take us on mystery walks that always ended in picnics, and tell us the names of all the plants and birds and animals we'd see on the way."

He smiled. "That's quite the pretty picture."

"Yes, it was an idyllic childhood, at first." She took the empty cup from him while swallowing the lump in her throat. "Do you have a happy memory from your childhood?"

He thought. "Yeah. Lots. Again," he nodded to her, "thanks to my Ma. Almost from my first day, she'd take me out to watch the horses on our land. She had me on my first horse before I could walk. When I got older I figured that was my ideal life; ranching, working our land alone, or with a few close to me. Beholden to no one."

She nodded. "Perhaps not so very different from how things turned out."

He smiled slightly. "Perhaps not. Less _petty thieving_, I suppose," he said, his eyes flickering to hers to confirm the gentle dig had hit home, "but otherwise..." He shifted slightly, and tried to keep the pain off his face.

There must be some small thing she could do to ease him. "Did they hurt your feet?"

"Uh, no. That was about the only thing they left alone."

"Would you like me to massage them for you?"

He hesitated. "Ah, no one's ever done that."

It was neither a request nor a refusal, so she would try it. "Then you're in for a treat." She moved down to the end of the bed and carefully arranged them so that his lower legs lay across her lap.

Soon after she began, he let out a big sigh.

"You okay?"

He nodded, his eyes closed. She took it as a positive sign, and let the connection between them deepen as she concentrated on making this as good as possible, working pressure points to help relieve his pain.

Some time later, she noticed that his face was reddening, and he'd tried to unobtrusively bunch the covers over his lap. Oh. She'd thought that wouldn't be an issue tonight, but clearly she was mistaken. She kicked herself; this wasn't supposed to be about making him more uncomfortable.

"I should let you rest," she said lightly, giving him an out.

"Gǒushǐ... I'm sorry, I can't help..." he huffed in consternation at himself. "What you're doing to my feet feels real good, but it's more than..."

"Hush," she said, before he could go on. They were _not_ moving into such dangerous waters right now, when he was drugged and in pain, and they were both upset and exhausted. "It's fine. Do you want me to stop?" Much as she longed to give him release with her hands or her mouth, they couldn't risk the strain on his heart right now, and anyway, the whole situation was too complicated to jump into without thinking it through. Work was one thing; her own relationships quite another.

"No, it won't... I... Ah..." he sighed. "Please just keep going," he said, finally. "That is some black magic you possess. It's not just my, uh... my... that appreciates it."

She smiled. "Very well." She carried on, wanting to give him not just relief from pain, but actual physical pleasure that he could focus on, to take his mind away from where it had been the last couple of days.

Gradually, the noises he was making grew less frequent, and the tension in his face and body eased. He let out a little snore, and she brought the massage to a close, sleep threatening to overwhelm her at any moment, too.

The next thing she knew, Simon was kneeling beside her with a cup of tea.

"Good morning," she said, groggily.

Simon's eyes flicked to the captain, then back to her, and he smiled. "Yes, I believe it will be."

End.


End file.
